Broken Mind
by HalfAMind
Summary: Sometimes, even the most reasonable person can only take so much before all restrains gets thrown away.


Even the nicest people can only take so much. And when nice people snap, they usually snap completely. If you ever think hard about it, I was really never that nice.

I never thought myself being neither capable of nor inclined to torture. Curious enough, it turns out I'm very, very good at it. In hindsight, I guess that should have been obvious.

It took a while, but I finally got it. That one critical piece of information. With all the practice this last month I have gotten smarter about this type of thing. This time I remember to write it down as soon as I can make my fingers move correctly without the blood on my hands leading to me dropping the pen. My finger toys with the edge of the paper scrap in my right hand.

I look up at the torso of Malfoy Jr. as it is hanging there - squeaking, wiggling. I assume that it is the pain from the S-shaped meat hooks through his shoulders that make him wiggle, resulting in that squeaky noise as the body slides over the metal. The lack of sound from junior himself is somewhat disconcerting considering his state, right until I recall his vocal cords snapping about an hour ago.

It takes a good while for the liquids to drain from the human body, especially when someone is trying to make it a painful process. Looking at the floor I see a large pool of fluids collected underneath him. We must have been here a while by now. I stretch my fingers. It hurts. No wonder considering what I have been using my hands for over the last few hours. They have been under stress from all the heavy work for too long.

You have to understand, I'm not inclined to violence. But he put me in this position. Threats against me and my friends, I'm used to. It comes with the territory when you have a different opinion than what is commonly accepted. I guess my choice of friends didn't help either. Threats against my family is a whole other ballgame – my family is everything to me. I love my family dearly. "Where would I be without them?" – that is a question I have never ever wanted to consider.

My time here was limited, and truth potions are hard to make, not to mention very time consuming to brew. Plus, with the state of Britain right now, ingredients are tough to get hold of on a good day. Asking Harry for help with beating the answer I needed out of Malfoy would never have worked, that kind of violence would have been expected by Malfoy, so he would never succumb to that. Never. He would have been prepared. He would rather stand proud and suffer a beating than simply break down like that. In his mind that would not be dignified.

So, really – as you see, Malfoy left me with no other option than to get the information I needed myself, in my own, unique way.

I look back at the meat hooks, they are sturdy – their S-shaped form is a nice, simple thing to focus on in order to take my attention away from what I have just done. The sleek metal lets the blood flow easily over them, down the carved, tortured torso. Here and there I spot the marks on the body; blue, red, purple. Bone white.

When I close the doors behind me, I look in to the mirror, off to the side, to make sure my face has no blood stains from the initial interrogation. As I do, I catch Harrys face in the mirror, unaware for the briefest of moments. It's literally frozen, horrified from the glimpse he got looking through the door before I closed it. I guess the muffled sounds of the interrogation, that he must have heard through the door over the last few hours, haven't been of much help either.

My fingers trace along the edge of the small piece of paper in my right hand. This small piece of paper was what this was all about after all.

I look down at the scrap of paper where I wrote the most important fact in the world. Happy that I finally got it, even if the process getting it was a tad more violent than I'm used to. My eyes can read the note easily, even through all the sweat and grime on my face: _Mr. And Mrs. Granger is being kept at Welford Mews number 5._

I ignore Ron, I ignore Harry - and let my hands absentmindedly close the outer doors to the abattoir as we leave the building and before I go to get my parents.


End file.
